


Nickroe-fying Season 5

by Yoite



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Author needs to get a Life, Canon Dialogue, DARK CHAPTER 4!, Denial of Feelings, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Monroe Appreciation, F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Melodramatic!Nick, Monroe Has The Patience Of A Saint, Multi, Past Affair, Prompt Fic, Romance, Season/Series 05, Soap Opera, Spoilers, Unresolved Tension, Which Could Become Present Affair, Whinybitch!Nick, it's complicated - Freeform, protective Monroe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoite/pseuds/Yoite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin, really. I'm taking S5 episodes as prompts and adding more Nickroe-ness. Possibly Monrosanick in later chapters. Mostly lighthearted-ish, though chapter 4 is very dark. <br/>Warning: There will always be spoilers for the most recent episode(s). Disclaimer: Parts of the dialogues are taken straight from the script and those parts belong to the Grimm writers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 501

**Author's Note:**

> This first one-shot contains some references to S4 and also S2E12. This is what I would have liked to see in S5E1.. :D Anyone else?

Monroe’s Beetle pulled up on the opposite side of the road just as Nick was stepping out of his car. _Shit_. Monroe was the last person he needed to see right now. He was going to keep telling himself that until he believed it.  
  
“Dude, you need to answer your phone.”  
  
The blutbad wasn’t wasting any time, gesticulating at him in his unmistakably Monroe-esque manner. Nick should have known Monroe would come to save him from himself. Not Hank or Wu or any other member of their unlikely gang. Always Monroe.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
Nick walked past his friend, trying to ignore him – as much as it was possible to ignore someone who was so tall and wore brightly-coloured trousers and kept talking to the back of his head with undiminished passion. Finally, the detective stopped and turned around with a sigh. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get rid of Monroe so easily.  
  
“.. and I don’t want to see you do something, you know, if you really need me!”  
  
“I appreciate that”, Nick did his best to keep his tone measured, even though on the inside he was boiling, “but you can’t be part of this, not until I’m sure. Now get out of here.”  
  
“Nick..”  
  
“Get out of here!”, the Grimm shouted in exasperation, pointing and pushing away the guilt as the expression on his friend’s face shifted from worried to shocked to hurt. No one could possibly expect him to be dealing with Monroe’s feelings right now!  
  
He made a move to walk away but the blutbad had other plans, catching him by his arm and forcing the detective to keep facing him.  
  
“No, I’m not gonna do that, Nick!”  
  
The determination in Monroe’s voice was unexpected.  
  
“You don’t get to send me away like this, not anymore. Not after what happened between us.”

That was the last straw. 

“D’you really think it's a good time to bring this up?!”, Nick exploded, forcefully pulling his arm out of Monroe’s grasp. “My girlfriend died in my arms last night, you idiot! Her body is barely even cold yet! Not that I could tell, I don’t even know where her body _is_!”  
  
“I doubt Juliette was still considering herself your girlfriend, Nick!”  
  
Monroe held his gaze firmly for a moment before dropping it with a shake of his head.  
  
“I’m sorry, man. Look, it’s not like I’m asking you to sleep with me again or something -"  
  
“Shh!” Nick hissed, glancing up and down the road. Thankfully, there was no one within earshot.  
  
“I’m just asking you to not get yourself killed in my absence. Or _at all_ , ideally, if I can help it. As your _friend_.”  
  
“Friend, huh?” Nick gave an ironic chuckle, dropping his own gaze and very carefully not checking out Monroe's long legs in those weird pinkish trousers that suited him pretty well, actually.  
  
“I mean, what are you planning to do with that FBI agent? Or is this another one of your punch first, ask questions later missions?”  
  
“She’s got Trubel!” Nick barked. “I gotta see for myself if she’s wesen!”  
  
“And if she is, then what?”  
  
“Then I’m gonna take her somewhere safe for questioning.”  
  
“Like where?”  
  
“I don’t know, Monroe! Somewhere _safe_! The Spice Shop basement should do fine.”  
  
“Oh, so you’re saying I _am_ gonna be part of this. Me and Rosalee both.”  
  
Nick huffed, sticking both hands into his pockets.  
  
“Guess I haven’t thought this far.”  
  
“Hey, it’s cool, man, a kidnapped FBI agent should make a nice addition to my collection of stolen passports and phones and your murder weapon from one of the other times you did such a good job not involving me in a crime -”  
  
“Alright, alright!” Nick cut him off impatiently, “You wanna help or not!?”  
  
“Sure”, Monroe confirmed with unnecessary enthusiasm.  
  
“Just keep your voice down, will you?”  
  
Nick strode on with the blutbad tagging along half a step behind him.  
  
“So, how are we getting in?”  
  
“Through the back door.”  
  
Monroe very wisely kept the obvious ‘back door’ joke to himself as he followed Nick around the house.  
  
“I guess I better look for something hard so we can smash in the glass or -"  
  
He stopped himself when Nick got a small bundle of skeleton keys out of his pocket.  
  
“Oh. Of course. I forget you cops have access to all the tools. Well, at least if the captain fires you for this you’ve got an alternative career path lined up - .. okay, okay, I’m shutting up now.”  
  
Monroe ducked under Nick’s punishing stare and watched in silence as the detective picked the lock with surprising skill. They went inside.  
  
“She should be out still.”  
  
“Well, I can tell you for sure she’s not here”, Monroe pointed to his nose.  
  
“Good. Help me search the house. Anything that tells us where Trubel is. Or that Chavez is wesen."  
  
"For example? It's not like we're hanging wesen certificates on our walls, you know?"  
  
"Just start looking."  
  
Nick pulled out a drawer and sounded irritated enough for Monroe not to question him further. They worked themselves through the ground floor, then the rooms upstairs. When Monroe finished the study and came into Chavez's master bedroom Nick was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, looking a little less angry and a little more lost.  
  
The clockmaker let himself sink down onto the bed next to him, keeping a respectful distance.

"Well, I got nothing."

"No, me neither", Nick admitted, sounding disheartened - or maybe just really, _really_ tired.  
  
"So, what are we doing now?" Monroe gave his own voice a pointedly upbeat tone, hoping to stop his friend from drifting into lethargy.  
  
"Waiting for her to come back. Her shift's finishing in ten."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Monroe stretched out his legs and occupied himself with a detailed examination of his boots - which Nick interrupted only moments later.  
  
"Your should go home. I'm sure Rosalee needs you."  
  
"Well.. you need me more."  
  
"Okay. Up to you."  
  
Monroe peeked over at the young man, all pale-faced and red-eyed and with his lips pressed together into a thin line. He looked like he was ready to sleep for a year, but also like he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. The clockmaker scrunched up his face, hurting from just looking at his friend. Inadvertently, he inched a little closer.  
  
"Listen, Nick.. I'm so sorry about Juliette. I mean, I'm not entirely sure what happened still, you could tell me, of course. Or not. But I'm sorry."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you are."  
  
It came out more snarkily than intended, and this time Nick could not push back the guilt. It wasn't fair to take his anger out on Monroe, it wasn't Monroe's fault. None of it was.  
  
"I mean, thank you for saying that."  
  
"I cared for Juliette, man. Well, when she wasn't trying to make you shoot me or burning your possessions and all those shenanigans. I really did."  
  
He paused, studying the side of Nick's face. Not that there was much to study. Right now, it was about as expressive as a stone. The clockmaker moved a little closer still.  
  
"But if one of you had to die, Nick, I'm glad it wasn't you. Because if you'd died, I would have torn the world apart. You know that, right?"  
  
Monroe wasn’t even sure if Nick had heard him at all until the detective replied, a long couple of moments later. Finally, there was a softer edge to his voice.  
  
"I know."  
  
Monroe dared a tiny smile. He dared to curl a cautious arm around Nick's shoulders, and since he did not encounter any resistance he pulled gently until Nick's head was resting against him.

"Don't worry", he nestled his own cheek into the detective's hair. "We'll find Trubel. And Juliette, and.. we'll find everyone they took from you. We'll make this right. Well, maybe not _right_ , but it will get _better_ , you know? Everything will -"

"Monroe?"

"Hm?"

"Just be quiet for a bit."

Nick closed his eyes, feeling his friend's lips against his scalp. For a moment or two, all this noise inside his head subsided a little.


	2. 502

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter seems to be in the same "plot frame" as 501, so I guess I will try to connect all the chapters so that I have a consistent "Nickroe layer" on top of the actual S5 story line. Not sure if I can pull this off though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you wolfmetal for pointing out the stuffed animals to me! :D

Nick couldn’t help smiling when he noticed the stuffed fox and wolf toys in Kelly’s cot, but even that adorable little detail failed to keep the corners of his mouth turned upwards for long. Aside from his son, Monroe’s and Rosalee’s friendship was the one good thing left in his life. It used to be the easiest thing, too. That wasn’t the case any longer.

Carefully, Nick put down the car seat, watching the little boy drift off to sleep. Yes, his baby was definitely cuter than the captain’s, not that he was biased or anything. But there was also another reason why he kept his eyes focused on Kelly. His son’s mother had vanished upstairs with Rosalee already, the fuchsbau had brought something from the Spice Shop to help with Adalind’s ‘post-natal lady issues’, which both Nick and Monroe were quite happy to remain unaware of and stay far away from. It was just them two downstairs now. Being alone with Monroe was something Nick had been trying to avoid lately, with all the success rate of a moth in a forest of candles.

“Look, Nick, I gotta be honest..”

The Grimm took a deep breath and turned around. Out of Monroe’s mouth, that certainly wasn’t his favourite conversation starter. Still, he walked over to his friend.

“I have sort of a bad feeling about this”, the clockmaker confessed with the kind of sincerity that gave him adorable little wrinkles around his eyes.

“They’re my responsibility.”

“I’m not talking about Adalind and Kelly.. okay, I guess I’m _kind of_ talking about Adalind.”

“What about her?”

“Well”, Monroe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, lowering his voice and looking decidedly uneasy, “don’t you think you’re being a little.. um.. maybe a little too lenient with her? After everything she’s done to you?”

“How am I supposed to be with her?” Nick quickly dropped his own voice. “She’s just had a baby. _My_ baby.”

“You sure about that?”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not judging, but does she seem like the puritan type to you? You can be a little naive sometimes.”

“And you can be a little patronising sometimes.”

“Can I?”, Monroe pouted. “I’m just saying, you need to be careful before you get all emotionally invested in playing house. Adalind’s gonna get her hexenbiest thing back sooner or later, and we both know how that can lead to a Jekyll and Hyde sort of conflict..”

The blutbad gave him a meaningful look. Nick shrugged.

“I’ll deal with it when that happens.”

“I don’t think you realise how dangerous she is.”

“Dangerous? She can barely even walk.”

“Well, there are other things she might be able to do with her legs that could -“

“Wait a second”, Nick interrupted, experiencing a lightbulb moment, “wait a second, are you _jealous_?”

“ _What_?” The clockmaker flushed. “I’mnotjealouswhyshouldIbejealous?”

“I can think of reasons.”

“I’m not _jealous_ ”, Monroe was eager to point out. “It’s not like you _owe_ me anything, Nick. I’m not that deluded.”

“No, I certainly don’t owe you anything”, Nick’s voice was almost a whisper now, “given that _you’re_ the one who’s _married_. And that we both agreed it was a _mistake_.”

“ _Mistakes_. Plural.”

“Whatever.”

“You know what else was a mistake?” Monroe managed to sound unabatedly intense even whilst whispering. “Hank getting close to Adalind was a mistake. Remember what happened to him? And to Wu? I just don’t want to find you on your hands and knees with your face in the carpet one day.”

“You didn’t complain last time that happened”, Nick grumbled.

Obviously, his brain had gone into stand-by mode for a moment and now Monroe was blinking at him, his face lightening somewhat.

“No”, he agreed with the strained expression of someone working hard to suppress a grin. Nick found he had the exact same problem himself.

“But at least you weren’t _eating_ the carpet. That’s gotta be bad for your digestion.”

“I guess so.”

They both gave an almost perfectly synchronous chuckle and Nick felt his shoulders relax a little. He sighed, ruffling his hair. They always ended up like this.

“Well, what do you suggest I do with Adalind?” He said simply. “She’s feeding Kelly, like, every two hours. I haven’t learned to produce milk from my nipples yet.”

“No, I know, of course, I’m not saying she shouldn’t _be_ here, just _please_.. don’t..”

Monroe fell silent, suddenly out of words, yet his eyes were as expressive as ever. Those eyes were a dark brown paradox, capable of making Nick go soft and hard all at the same time, yes, they could even -

There was a soul-shattering cry.

“Oh God!”

Nick rushed over to the cot. It was safe to say Kelly wasn’t asleep anymore. He didn’t seem overly cute either right now, screaming with all the impatience of a hungry little goblin.

“Adalind!” Nick shouted in panic. “The baby! You coming?”

“We need a couple more minutes, Nick”, came Rosalee’s calm voice from upstairs.

“Just take him for a moment”, came Adalind’s marginally less calm voice from upstairs.

“Right”, Nick tugged nervously at the buckles, fumbling the little bundle of joy out of the car seat.

“There, there”, he started rocking the baby in his arms, a little awkwardly, “don’t cry, food will be here soon.”

“Waaaaah!” Kelly opined, not at all impressed.

“What do I do?!” Nick looked helplessly over at Monroe, as if asking where to find the ‘mute’ button. “What’s wrong?!”

“I don’t know”, Monroe shrugged sympathetically, “want me to -"

“Here!” Nick handed over the tiny but surprisingly vocal parcel. “You try!”

Monroe smiled down at the screeching baby boy in his arms.

“Well, don’t you have some lungs on you?”

Unexpectedly, he started humming something Nick did not recognise. It took the Grimm a while to realise it was German.

“Alle meine Entchen, schwimmen auf dem See, schwimmen auf dem See..”

Singing was one of the notably few things that Monroe wasn’t utterly great at. And yet, astonishingly, Kelly seemed to be calming down a little more with every round of whatever this whole “Entchen” malarkey was. Soon he was looking at the clockmaker out of big blue eyes, mustering him in perceptive silence.

“What was that?” Nick demanded with a hint of envy – and a truckload of relief.

“Kind of the first thing that came to mind”, Monroe kept his smiling gaze on the baby. “My great-uncle used to sing a lot of kids’ songs to me.”

“Uncle Olaf, is it?”

“Oh, hey, you do actually listen to me sometimes!” Monroe grinned.

“Can’t always be helped”, Nick muttered. “But how did you _do_ that.”

“Dunno, maybe this little guy likes my voice?”

Who doesn’t, Nick thought, but decided to keep it to himself. It was bad enough that he couldn’t peel his eyes away from his friend, the glimpses of naturally tanned skin revealed by his carelessly rolled up sleeves and underneath the top buttons left undone on his lightly chequered shirt. On both of his shirts, in fact. Honestly, could Monroe not cover up a little before coming over to his place? Did he have to look so ruggedly handsome, standing there with his new-found accessory? Kelly looked perfectly safe and secure in the blutbad’s strong arms, the ones Nick had recently discovered could be so gentle, too. He looked down, shaking his head.

“I’m surprised you and Rosalee have not had a baby yet..”

“I don’t think she’s ready”, Monroe’s tone was pointedly casual but did not quite manage to conceal the bitter notes within. “Maybe she’ll never be, with her past and all..”

They both jumped as Rosalee came down the stairs with Adalind at this exact point. Monroe carefully handed over the baby, and then him and Rosalee were saying goodbye, not without the clockmaker giving Nick a last deep look before departing.

“Nick, are you okay?”

The Grimm felt Adalind’s hand on his shoulder. He found himself still staring in the direction of the door. Staring after Monroe.

“Yeah, fine.”

He carefully shook off the hexenbiest’s hand.

“I’m fine.”

Monroe would always go home with his wife. Nick was fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might skip 503 as from what I've seen it will be difficult to nickroefy.. Comments are always welcome! :)


	3. 504

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, this story is turning into a real gay soap opera! It's like cheesy cheese in a cheese sauce baked over with cheese (.. wait, that doesn't sound so bad, actually?)
> 
> Well, you've been warned! ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I now realise is that I really, REALLY enjoy writing Nick as a bitchy drama queen ;D. No idea where that's coming from.. maybe the fact he's a bit of an emotionless drone in the actual series? I totally see him in a kind of bratty sub/patient dom dynamic with Monroe :D.
> 
> This chapter is inspired by me feeling nostalgic about the first season (and talking it over with wolfmetal <3).. lots of references to season one..
> 
> Please note that I'm using British English (mostly). Therefore, nappies. Etc.

“Well, that’s all we got on weten ogen here, I’m sorry there doesn’t seem to be anything of particular interest..”

The clockmaker made a move to close the weathered tome in front of them but Nick stopped him, leaning over his shoulder from behind and placing a hand on the yellowed page.

“Weten ogen, huh?”, he scoffed.

Monroe focused on keeping his breathing as shallow as possible, shifting forward on his chair. He’d caught himself at the very last moment. The moment before that last one, he was about to turn around and press his nose into Nick’s neck. This was such a difficult line to toe once you had crossed it with someone, just like trying to unsay a word you really meant.

“Looks just the same as a klaustreich to me!”

Nick sounded irritated, as if Monroe had been responsible for writing that damn book.

“Seriously, how many more of your wesen species can there possibly be?”

“Not as many as there once were”, the blutbad grumbled, “before your relatives started meeting and greeting us with battle axes.”

There was a second of uncomfortable silence before Nick leaned back and walked away from the table. Monroe sighed with relieved regret. Someone should have invented a word for that subtle flavour of emotion. Regrief, maybe. Monroe had been experiencing his fair share of regrief when looking at the Grimm these days.

“I’m sorry", Nick muttered. "That was a stupid thing to say.”

The clockmaker lifted one side of the book, watching the pages slide down one by one as he allowed it to fall shut. Very, very slowly.

“Hey man, is something up?”

He finally turned around to look at his friend.

“Is it something I said, or.. ?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

If Nick had tried to move his mouth even less he might have as well signed up for a new career as a ventriloquist.

“You see, Nick, to me that sounds like the kind of ‘no’ that’s a ‘yes’ in sheep’s clothing, and boy, I’ve heard enough ‘no’s in my life to count myself an expert. So, come on, spit it out.”

He only allowed himself a second to consider how that was not at all what he’d suggest under different circumstances.

“It’s nothing”, Nick huffed.

“Really? You insisted on staying behind because you wanted to discuss weten ogen mating cycles?”

The detective jammed both hands into his pockets and shrugged. Monroe rolled his eyes. Nick had been a right moody son of a Grimm lately, which seemed so very unlike the young man.

“What is it, Nick?”

It was true what they said, you can never assume to know someone inside out until you, well,  _actually_  get to know them on the inside. Though that didn’t mean to say that Monroe liked his friend-turned-lover-turned-friend any less. In fact, he liked him even _more_ now that he could see how heart-breakingly imperfect Nick was. Once you’ve had someone down on the ground it was near impossible to put them back up on a pedestal, but that was not a bad thing. Also, ‘liked’ was hardly the mot juste.

“What have I done _again_?”

The clockmaker had been trying so hard, honestly. He was as good a friend as he could possibly be, always there for Nick and putting up with the detective’s crabbiness without as much as a complaint. Heck, he’d even changed a few nappies here and there, despite the impact on his sensitive nose. Not _Nick’s_ nappies, obviously. And he took care not to bring _it_ up anymore. Unless Nick brought _it_ up first, which happened with surprising regularity, considering that Nick never wanted to talk about _it_ again..

“I came to see you about this stupid feather before, you know?”, the detective finally admitted, failing to relieve too much of the suspense.

“Yeah?” Monroe cocked an eyebrow. “When?”

“Yesterday, when you were in the Spice Shop. With Rosalee.”

“Eh?” The clockmaker’s confusion grew exponentially. “But.. you didn’t come in?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you wanted to forget you ever met me!”

Nick suddenly exploded, glaring at him out of darkened eyes. The first time Monroe had observed Nick’s irises change with emotion, just like a wesen’s would, it had scared the living wolf out of him. But as time passed he learned to love that colour of underground lakes, of everything that was hidden beneath the surface. Still, right now, he was nothing but shocked.

“Excuse me, what?”

“You said you wanted to forget everything before Rosalee!”

Monroe blinked at the Grimm in utter confusion for quite a while, until -

“Oh.”

Finally, his brain kicked in.

“ _Oh_. You _heard_ that?”

“Yeah, I was at the door”, Nick snapped, pointing to his ears, “that fly wesen’s parting gift, remember?”

“Uh -“

“Fine, if that’s how you feel, then there really was no need to pretend that -"

“No no no, wait a second”, Monroe hastily scrambled out of his chair, “wait a second, that’s not what I meant at all, and you’re well aware -”

“Well, you _said_ it!” Nick made a sweeping gesture, like an angry windscreen wiper. “And you _always_ say what you mean, don’t you! Or you mean what you say! Ah, _whatever_..”

He stopped wiping and slapped himself across the forehead, looking utterly dejected all of a sudden. Monroe stared down for a moment, as if that line that stopped him from walking over and taking the young man in his arms could be seen right there, drawn on the floor between their feet.

“Geez, Nick!” He burst out instead, attempting a wiper impersonation all of his own. “I was just trying to say something romantic, s’all! Because, hell, that Carlos guy wrote a freaking _song_ for her! You _know_ how meeting you both changed my life around, you _and_ Rosalee. You’re just being deliberately obtuse, aren’t you?”

“And you’re just being deliberately forgetful!” Nick retorted grumpily. “I seem to remember a time when it was just the two of us..”

The Grimm visibly exhaled and sucked in his lower lip, eyes resting on Monroe’s collarbone. It made the blutbad want to grab this goddamn frustrating idiot, push him against one of the shelf units and pull that pretty lip into his own mouth, to graze it with his teeth whilst fucking Nick into all of those ancient books.

“.. I mean, everyone’s in the know now, so that’s great, and really helpful, but.. I kind of miss the old days, when it was just you and me against the world..”

Nick’s voice softened considerably as he spoke. It was barely even audible when he finished, so Monroe made sure to speak up.

“Well, more like us against _my_ world”, he chuckled.

At least one of them had to try and refrain from getting too emotional at any given point, or else..

“Remember how we fought in the löwen pits together?” Nick ignored his reserve.

“Yup. You went cuckoo, I got electrocuted, and my insurance refused to let me have a new iPhone..”

“.. but we won!” Nick smiled. “Or when we went looking for that girl in the forest?”

“Dude, that was _crazy_!” Monroe let himself get carried away a little. “That's where you first called me ‘your friend’, too.. well, just in time, I suppose, as I was about to become your _very dead_ friend!”

“And still, you didn’t want to be the status quo kind of guy..", Nick remarked. "Ah, those were, well, _interesting_ times.”

“Yeah, they were..", Monroe allowed a healthy dose of sarcasm into his voice, "well, maybe apart from the time when your colleague pulled a shotgun on me in my own house.. or the time when I had to rip off some random guy's arm.. and also the one where -"

“Fine, you know what? I’m gonna go.”

Nick was about to stomp past him when Monroe caught him by his elbow. The Grimm was getting terribly sensitive these days.

“Hey. _Hey_. I’m sorry, I’m just fooling around.”

So much for refraining from getting too emotional.

“I miss it too, man. We were like Batman and Robin, weren't we? Minus the lycra pants, of course. And the money. And the badass car.”

Monroe let his hand slide down Nick’s arm, squeezing the young man's thin fingers for a brief moment before letting go. He really _was_ trying to honour that ‘no touching’ rule they’d established, but it wasn't easy.

“I’d love to hang out more, you know?” He noted quietly. “Have dinner again, maybe. Just us. Without any talk about your balls this time. But _you’re_ the one saying we shouldn’t see each other too much, for now. Until it all settles.”

Nick gave a sad little laugh.

“I know. How is that going for you?”

“Well..”

Monroe followed the Grimm with his eyes as the young man picked up the tome they’d been reading and walked over to the shelves, sliding it back into its place. The same shelves Monroe had been phantasising about earlier. Nick remained facing them for some reason. The view of his backside was almost irresistible. The blutbad felt his claws tingle underneath the perfectly groomed nails. He padded across until he was standing just behind his friend, just short of touching him.

“It doesn’t have to be so complicated, you know?” He muttered in Nick’s ear.

The Grimm felt every single hair on his body stand on edge, as if trying to shorten the distance between his and Monroe’s skin. He gripped the back of the thick, leather-bound book he was still holding on to.

“I never wanted it to end, what we had.. you _know_ that.. _you_ wanted it to end.”

The blutbad was emanating heat like a freaking radiator. And yet Nick knew his friend would not dare anything, not unless he said the word. And not simply because Rosalee was in the shop upstairs that very moment and some lines were better not crossed. No, just because he was _the good guy_. And sometimes, deep down in his core, the detective wished that once, just once, Monroe could be bad enough to disregard his wishes. His consent.

“We don’t have to torture ourselves like this..”

Nick felt Monroe’s mouth move along his neck, not touching him, just breathing on his skin, and judging by the guttural quality of the blutbad’s voice his fangs were out by now.

“.. and each other.. or, at least, we could find _more pleasant_ _ways_ to torture each other..”

The Grimm closed his eyes, his friend’s husky voice seeping into his blood and shooting straight down to his groin. He felt like a damn hero just pressing out this one short, abrupt, monosyllabic word.

“No.”

He quickly squeezed past Monroe and away from the shelves, gaining some much-needed distance. His heart was throbbing in his throat, making it a challenge to speak, and still, he managed.

“No, we could not.”

Monroe turned around with a deep sigh, looking disappointingly human, apart from the hungry red spark that lingered in his eyes.

“And why not?”

“Because you’re _married_?!”

“We’ve been through this, Nick!” The clockmaker spread out his arms in sheer frustration, leaning back into the shelves. “I’ve explained it to you, how these things work differently for wesen, right? It’s not like I was _cheating_. Rosalee’s _alright_ with -"

“But _I’m_ not alright with it!”

All of a sudden, Nick found himself shouting at the top of his voice, sounding painfully hoarse. He stopped and cleared his throat, continuing at a more appropriate volume.

“We’ve been through this one, too, Monroe. I’m not alright sharing you. Even if it were just physical, I could not share you, even if I didn’t have any -..”

“Any _what_?”

“It doesn’t matter. I gotta go.”

He picked up his jacket from the back of a chair, jerking it on.

“I love you, Nick”, Monroe said simply.

The detective froze with one arm hanging half-way inside the sleeve. Then he realised he was putting on his jacket the wrong way round.

“And I love Rosalee, too. I love you both. I told you so before.”

“You can’t love two people at once”, Nick hissed from behind gritted teeth, finally defeating that damn piece of clothing.

“I seem to manage just fine.”

“Then you’re fooling yourself.”

“Love’s not like a cake, you know? It’s not like there’s any less of it if I give someone a slice.”

Nick squinted at him in despair, zipping up his jacket.

“That might just be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. And, believe me, there’s enough to choose from.”

“Which part was dumb? The cake thing? Or that I love you?”

“Both”, Nick confirmed as he made his way up the stairs. “Both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know your thoughts on this :)
> 
> There WILL be "proper" smut at some point..


	4. 506

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the tone is VERY different from the previous three. I thought about publishing it as a stand-alone ficlet at first, but it DOES fit into the story line of "Nickroefying..", and it WAS inspired by episode 506, so I'm going to stick it here. 
> 
> This It's just a crazy little idea I could not get out of my head after watching the fall finale. It's very dark and angsty and more in the vein of 24 / Homeland than Grimm. It contains all kinds of triggers that I don't want to add in the tags since they only apply to this one chapter. You've been warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this mostly out of disappointment with the fall finale (and recent Grimm scripts in general). The "spectacular twist" in the fall finale is just a meh-tastic twist in my books. So here are MY twists! Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> And a very special thanks to wolfmetal for reviewing this chapter <3

“It was a really brave thing you did, identifying that woman.”

Xavier said nothing. He felt many things, fear and exhaustion and pain swelling in his face where they’d hit him. Bravery was the last thing he felt.

“Did they tell you why they took you?”

He looked out of the window for a moment, allowing the street lights to catch his eyes and his mind.

“No, they- uh..”

It hurt to speak. He could not get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He wished he could do his wesen name justice and hide in his snail shell until all of this blew over. But he was nothing like a snail. The Grimm who named his species must have been high on something more potent than the herbs in Rosalee’s shop.

“They just kept me tied up and blindfolded all the time”, he lied.

Xavier did not have the heart to admit the entire truth, even if he had nothing to hide. He had not told his kidnappers about the guy in the photo. About Monroe. He just let them beat him, and still, he felt bad.

“How did you escape?”

“Can- can we not talk about this, please?”, the baker pleaded.

He almost regretted that Rosalee had volunteered to drive him home, even if she was a friend. Or, rather, _Monroe_ was a friend and Rosalee was his wife. Still, Xavier had expected the police to offer him some kind of witness protection. Was that not the standard procedure? Well, what did _he_ know.

“I’m sorry.”

Rosalee’s apology sounded a little more intense than necessary. She was quiet for a while, but there was a sudden depth to her voice as she spoke again, something Xavier could not put his finger on.

“I’m just thinking, have you never wondered why they let you go?”

The baker turned to gaze at her in surprise.

“Eh?”

“I mean, these guys are hardcore, they’re murderers, but they can’t even tie you up properly? Let’s face it, Xavier, you’re no Houdini.”

Rosalee gave a joyless laugh.

“That’s what Monroe would say, right?”

There was something off about the way the Fuchsbau said her husband’s name. It gave Xavier the chills. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not entirely sure what was happening here.

“And they all let you see their faces too, even the ones with a police record. That was convenient..”

“What -“, Xavier licked his dry lips, “what are you _saying_?”

“The question is, what aren’t _you_?”

Rosalee gave him her usual sweet smile but it looked strangely incongruous on her face. Street lights were flashing in her eyes every couple of seconds.

“You never wondered why they showed you a picture of my husband?”

Xavier’s stomach curled into an icy knot. He stared at her smirk for a few long moments before they were both dipped in shadow. Rosalee turned into a narrow alleyway.

“Rosalee, this is not-“, the baker’s fingers were running along the spongy material of the door, “this is not the way home..”

“I know.”

He found the little metal handle and gripped it, ready to pull.

“What’s going on, Rosalee? I didn’t tell them anything about Monroe, I swear! Stop the car!”

To his surprise she obeyed, cutting both the engine and the headlights. They halted in the dimly lit road. There was not a car in sight. Not a soul.

“What’s wrong?” Xavier tugged at the door handle in mounting panic, to no avail. “How did you find out about -"

He knew. He was not ready to believe it yet, but he knew. It was as striking as the amber glow in the fuchsbau’s eyes.

“Oh God..”, he whispered, paralysed. “You’re one of them..”

“I’ll tell you why they showed you the photograph, Xavier.”

Rosalee woged. He could not see it, but he _heard_ it. He felt a wave of heat emanating from her animal body, desperately trying to stop himself from responding in like. A hasenfussige schnecke was more vulnerable in their true state. But he couldn’t help it.

“You deserve to know why you had to die”, the fox growled, “it’s all _his_ fault!”

That was the last thing Xavier heard before his trachea was detached from his throat.

Rosalee closed her eyes, taking quick, shallow breaths. The stench of warm blood was unbearable and she returned to her less sensitive human senses, wiping her fingers on Xavier’s shirt before picking up her phone. She dialled the number.

“Is it done?”

The shopkeeper held a fist to her mouth, retching at the sound of Dallas’s voice. It did not help much. Her skin smelled like salt and copper.

“Rosalee, dear?”

“I took care of him.”

She unbuckled Xavier’s belt with the other hand and deactivated the safety lock, reaching across to open his door.

“They left for the factory, fifteen minutes ago. I saw them leave.”

“Good girl.”

Rosalee grimaced against the phone.

“Remember our agreement”, she pressed out.

Dallas was silent for a moment.

“Are you sure it’s what you want? We could -”

“Yes.”

“Alright”, the skalengeck chuckled, making her stomach churn. “Don’t worry, he’ll die a painful death. They all will.”

“Good. I’ll be there.”

Rosalee quickly hung up, rolled down her window and threw up onto the tarmac. It was time. She rolled it back up and rummaged anxiously through the glove compartment until she felt the cool metal of the pill box against her palm. She opened it with shaking fingers and swallowed the two remaining tablets at once, four times the usual dosage. Then she leaned back into the headrest, wiping her mouth. It was okay. Dallas would have some more Jay for her tonight. She had to rush.

The fox groaned as she pushed Xavier’s dead body out onto the street, closing the door and starting the engine. She could already feel the drug spreading through her system like a warm carpet. Driving was not a problem, she had years of experience living with an addiction. Hiding it. Functioning. Monroe had not even noticed its return. His mind had been elsewhere for a while now.

* * *

 

Nick threw a nervous glance back at the gang. A lot of the attackers seemed to have targeted Monroe. Well, it _was_ some sort of civil war, after all, but he could not bear the thought of losing his best friend to yet another wesen-on-wesen conflict. Not after the whole Wesenrein thing, not after the way it had made him _feel_.

“Bolt the door after me.”

He inched into what looked like the main factory hall, gun at the ready. It wasn’t what he expected to find. The dingy floor was littered with bodies, most dead, some in their final throes, struggling, losing. Nick frowned. There was a slim figure crouched by one of the corpses a little further down the hall, shaking it by its shoulders. A female figure.

“You stupid son of a bitch!”

Nick huffed in surprise as he recognised the voice, even if not the kind of language it uttered.

“Rosalee?”

She visibly jumped, instantly getting to her feet.

“What are you doing here?” He started walking towards her. “How did you get here? Did you see what happened?”

“No.”

The fuchsbau’s expression was oddly blank and stony as he came closer. Her light-coloured jacket and plaid shirt were soaked in blood.

“I just arrived.”

A few more steps and Nick recognised the body Rosalee had been bent over.

“Glad you’re okay, this was a trap”, he lowered his gun, turning around. “Hey guys, Cruz is dead! Rosalee’s here..”

He could not get his head around all of this. Something didn’t fit.

“Is Xavier safe? What did you want with Cruz? Did you -"

Nick was momentarily distracted by the rest of the group entering the hall. He could not quite explain how he suddenly found himself in a near chokehold with the Glock snatched out of his hand and pressed to his head. His first thought was that he must have have missed one of Dallas’s guys. His second thought wasn’t really a thought, just a cloud of confusion.

“One step closer and he dies”, Rosalee snarled, mere inches from his ear, jerking him around to face the others. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, looking suitably horrified. “You were all supposed to be dead by now!”

There were moments of astonished silence. Nick was so gobsmacked he froze, not even struggling against Rosalee’s arm. The captain was the first to rediscover his voice.

“You were working with Cruz.” It wasn’t even a question. “You and Arivaca set us up.”

“What?” Monroe laughed out nervously, “Dude, are you crazy? That’s ridiculous. Rosalee, what are you doing?”

“Xavier had no idea!”

“Come on, honey, that’s not funny..”

Monroe made a step towards her and she instantly took one back, dragging Nick along and pushing the gun even harder against his temple.

“I killed Xavier”, she hissed, “I ripped out his throat. Don’t think I won’t kill _him_.”

“Okay, okay..”, Nick lifted his hand a little, asking Monroe to stop, and he obeyed, staring at them both in speechless shock. The detective already realised one thing that the clockmaker did not: Rosalee wasn’t _lying_. He had been threatened often enough to know when someone _meant_ it. And she was strong, much, _much_ stronger than her slim frame would suggest. She was holding him in an iron grip and the gun was ready to fire, Nick had made sure of that himself. Still, he felt strangely calm. This was all too surreal. Whatever was happening, it was bound to resolve itself soon.

“Rosalee..”, he tried to make do with what little air he was allowed, ”..what are they threatening you with? We can help.. Let me go and we find some..”

“.. it can’t be true..”, Monroe muttered, “.. you.. Xavier.. that Dallas guy.. what..”

“It can’t be true?” Rosalee mocked him, loud enough for everyone to hear. “How d’you think they found out which shops are wesens’? And what a coincidence that mine was spared! Did you really think I could support a shop like that in the middle of Portland just by selling the odd tea to some senile mauzhertz? Not working with the bad guys? Not selling the _real_ stuff under the table? Did you think Freddy’s old suppliers would just leave me alone?” The fuchsbau’s voice was growing higher pitched with each new sentence and Monroe’s eyes were widening in turn. “Have you actually seen the shop being _busy_? Ever? With people who didn’t just want my help for free? How naive _are_ you!”

“.. what.. that’s nonsense, Rosalee.. I’m running the shop with you.. I’ve seen the books.. I know every single -"

“I’m a _fuchsbau_ ,Monroe!”

“Uh, guys..”, Nick chipped in, starting to feel decidedly light-headed. The gun was cold against his skin. He could see his colleagues exchanging puzzled glances in the background, listening in on this surreal dialogue, hands on their holsters. He caught the captain’s eye and silently begged him not to use force.

“.. but.. I don’t understand..”, Monroe was still in denial, “Dallas.. you said he killed your friends..”

“ _Friends_!” Rosalee chuckled. “Do you even know what that word meant at the time? Friends meant we were begging in the streets and doing Jay together in some dirty old digs! Friends meant they _raped_ me when I was too high to even even care.. Dallas was _useful_!”

“Oh God”, the blutbad growled, red-eyed. “What has that bastard done to you? What has -"

“What has _he_ done?”

This time, Rosalee laughed out so hysterically that everyone jumped and cursed.

“ _He_ ’s not the one at fault!”

“Wha- ?”

“Believe me, I wanted to tell you, I _trusted_ you, I thought, maybe I could get out of all this mess, one day. But you were too busy fucking someone else!”

Nick gasped, suddenly weak at the knees. Rosalee was shivering against him. He could feel the heat of her body even through the thick layers of both their clothing. Her arm was hard and hairy against his throat. He wasn’t sure what was worse, being slowly chocked by her, the gun, the brutal pain on Monroe’s face, in his eyes that had retreated back to the darkest brown. Or knowing that all of this was his fault. For once he wished his ears weren’t so sensitive, that he didn’t have to listen to his colleagues murmuring amongst themselves, to hear Wu lean over to Hank and ask whether Nick had caught Monroe in flagrante with someone, or something like that?

He was surprised to hear Hank speak for the first time.

“Rosalee, what the hell? This has nothing to do with Nick, let him go!”

“Is that so?” The fuchsbau exclaimed with mad, vicious glee, so unlike her usual softly-spoken manner. “Would _you_ like to tell them, Monroe, _honey_.. or shall _I_ tell them about _our best friend_.”

As if by magic, all background voices instantly cut off. Hank and Wu gaped at Nick, then each other, then Nick again.

“Wait, does she mean..”, Wu whispered in Hank’s ear.

Nick wished Rosalee knew how to apply a proper chokehold so he could pass out already. Renard was the only one who didn’t seem fazed, he was simply frowning at Nick with that unhelpfully patronising ‘I could have told you it won’t end well’ look on his face. And then Nick finally knew what the worst thing was. It was the way Rosalee had pronounced the word _friend_ , in the exact same sarcastic manner as before. He closed his eyes and focused on getting oxygen into his lungs. He just couldn’t take the sight of Monroe’s melting face any longer.

“.. but Rosalee..”, Nick heard him mumble, as if coming from inside of his own head, “.. you _knew_.. you said it was okay.. you said you were _sorry_ when it ended..”

“And they broke up already?”, Wu whispered in Hank’s ear, “How did we miss all of that?”

“.. please.. let’s not talk about it _here_.. let Nick go and -"

“You _really_ thought I’d be okay with your rainbow-sprinkled hippie idea of marriage?”

“.. well, you said -"

“Because I love you!”

All of a sudden, Rosalee was screaming with such ferocity it forced Nick’s eyes to snap back open.

“I was too scared to lose you! I even put up with your godawful Christmas decorations!”

He thought his head was going to explode.

“I even let you knot me, d’you even imagine how painful that was!”

Monroe was looking more and more like a kicked puppy, utterly helpless.

“What does ‘knot’ mean?”, Wu whispered in Hank’s ear.

“Because I thought that, maybe, _maybe_ , you could love me at least half as much as you love Nick, that you married me for a reason, not just because you thought you could never have _him_! But now.. _now_.. I.. _God_..”

She was shaking more and more violently with each thick, broken syllable, the muzzle of the gun bumping against Nick’s temple. He knew there was a good chance she was going to press the trigger simply by accident. He knew he deserved it, too.

“.. it’s not true..”, Monroe wailed, “.. it’s not _true_ , I married you, I love you, let Nick go, _please_..”

Rosalee only tightened her grip on the detective in response, blackening his vision. Now could be his last chance to speak, not in order to beg, just -

“I’m sorry..”, he croaked, desperately clawing at Rosalee’s unyielding arm. “I’m so sorry, Rosalee.. I didn’t _meant_ to..”

“Oh, you just fucked him by accident?”

“.. this isn’t you Rosalee..”, Monroe was visibly struggling to get his wet, trembling lips to move, “.. please stop this.. we can talk.. this isn’t _you_.. you are -”

“ _What_ am I?”, The fox snarled, “Always caring and _good_ to everyone? Oh, sweet Rosalee, come help us with all our problems! Oh, kind Rosalee, please drop everything and help me with my fucking spawn and his goddamn stupid girl name!”

Nick’s hands curled into fists on their own accord.

“And who’s there for _me_ when _I_ need it?!”

“.. we all are, Rosalee”, Monroe pleaded breathlessly, “I promise, I -”

“Oh, you _are_!” She cut him off, sneering. “All of you! You don’t even know I can never have babies, Jay will do that to your body! You don’t even know I’ve been buying it from Dallas for months! And none of my _dear friends_ even noticed, not one! None of you _cares_!”

Monroe stared at her open-mouthed, just as shocked as the rest of them.

“You think you’re the only one with claws, Monroe? You think you’re the only one with all these _feelings_?!”

“What’s ‘Jay’?”, Wu whispered in Hank’s ear.

“Will you shut up!”, Hank snapped.

Nick barely took in any of that. His consciousness was being slowly erased by the chilling numbness spreading through his body. His neck twisted all by itself and he looked up at the fuchsbau’s face, into her wild, crazy eyes, her irises swallowed up by gleaming pupils. There was nothing of Rosalee left in there. She was all clouds and lightning. It must have been brewing for a while and he missed it completely. It was the perfect storm.

As if through a veil of grey, he saw Monroe making a step towards them once again, whether it was to save him or Rosalee Nick did not know. But he took it as a last, hopeless opportunity to try and break free.

A gunshot ripped through the air. Plaster came crumbling down from the ceiling, covering them in dust. Rosalee pressed the hot muzzle to his skin, burning him.

“Don’t even _think_..”

“Rosalee”, the captain finally stepped in, not quite succeeding to hide his genuine concern behind the authoritative voice. “Be reasonable. There is more at stake here than your revenge.”

“A guy who gave away his own daughter would say that!”, Rosalee laughed bitterly.

“What do you _want_?!”, Monroe shrieked, dropping to his knees and finally dissolving in tears. “I’ll do anything.. _anything_.. just don’t hurt him.. please.. I’m sorry.. I’m so _sorry_..”, he was tearing at his own curls in exasperation, “I love you both the same, how does neither of your idiots _get_ that! I thought we were all happy.. that’s all I ever wanted.. all I wanted..”

He broke down in heart-breaking sobs. Rosalee sniffed quietly in Nick’s ear.

“We’ll see about that”, she muttered, strangely calm. “I’ll count to five. Then I’ll shoot. Nick. Or myself. Your choice. One.”

No! -

\- Don’t! -

Are you crazy? -

All the voices merged together, shouting incoherently.

“Two.”

Nick felt his legs give in, but Rosalee held him up mercilessly.

“Three.“

He screwed up his eyes. There were faint clicking sounds. His colleagues were going to shoot. Somebody was going to die. Did it really matter _who_?

“Fo-“

Nick dropped to the floor, coughing and wheezing. The arm around his throat was gone. There was a high-pitched scream, then a dull thud. He forced himself to look up. The fog was dissipating and he could see Monroe bent over Rosalee’s body sprawled out on the floor, over by the wall, saying her name over and over again. There were hands on Nick’s shoulders, helping him up.

A thin figure was emerging from the darkness between two heavy shelf units. All the men were staring at her in astonishment, all but Monroe. A young blonde woman stepped into the dim light of the hall, maybe eighteen, judging by her figure. But her face was that of a child. Her eyes were focused on just one person.

“Hello, daddy”, she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome, good or bad. ;)
> 
> I will probably decide to regard this chapter as set outside of the main plot of "Nickroefying.." and will continue with the usual Nickroe fluff in the following chapters, hopefully also some Monrosanick, which is a guilty pleasure of mine :).


End file.
